


can’t live without your love inside me now

by PeppyBismilk



Series: Casphardt Kinkmeme Fills [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Crying, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Overstimulation, Post-Canon, Prompt Fill, Subdrop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk
Summary: Linhardt convinces Caspar to try something new and shows a new side of himself in the process.Kinkmeme fill for Caspar/Linhardt fisting + overstimulation + sub-drop
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: Casphardt Kinkmeme Fills [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009218
Comments: 27
Kudos: 89
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	can’t live without your love inside me now

**Author's Note:**

> Been working my way up to this one. Fill for [this kinkmeme prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=1786440#cmt1786440): _Non-route specific Casphardt where Caspar finally listens to Linhardt’s pleas and fists him. It goes well, Caspar fucks him afterward even though it makes Lin cry (but he’s into it so it’s okay) and after that Linhardt gets really soft and submissive and starts referring to himself in third person + starts going off about how he wants to marry Caspar so (fucking goddamn) bad. That’s it. That’s the prompt._

“Are you sure about this?”

Linhardt narrows his eyes and arches his back higher to better present his ass. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be on all fours with my ass in your face, now would I?” 

“No, it’s just...I’m big, but you’ve never taken anything quite this big before.”

When Linhardt looks over his shoulder, Caspar’s examining his fist. It is large, there’s no doubt, but if Linhardt doesn’t get something shoved in his hole soon, he’s going to snap. 

“That’s why you don’t cram it in all at once,” says Linhardt, cringing at the thought. “We’ve come pretty close and I’ve recovered just fine, as you can see.”

To underline the point, Linhardt relaxes his ass under Caspar’s keen eye. A phenomenal memory fills his mind: being spread around four of Caspar’s fingers as they pumped in and out all the way up to his palm. Would it really be so much more work to add his thumb to that delicious stretch, to push pleasure a little closer to pain? 

“I do see.” Caspar’s voice comes out a little strained, and he presses two gentle fingers to Linhardt’s rim.

“That would be a good start,” Linhardt sighs, leaning back on them and rolling his hips to generate a little friction. He injects some desperation into his voice. “Please, Caspar? Your fists are so big and powerful, don’t you think it’s time you put them to good use?”

“Whoa, now,” says Caspar, pulling his hand away. “Are you saying fighting’s not a good use of my hands?”

“Not unless you’re fighting my ass,” Linhardt says calmly. “Now fist me or I’ll fist myself.” 

Linhardt isn’t even sure how that would work, but Caspar makes a choked sound and starts rifling through his things. Good. He’s looking for the oil. Linhardt isn’t opposed to a little dry fingering, but he’s definitely not taking a fist without a lot of lubrication. 

Once he has the bottle in hand, Caspar says, “Tell me to stop and I will.”  


He doesn’t have to say it. “I know.” Linhardt can’t imagine telling him to stop, not when all he can think about is how Caspar’s knuckles are going to feel rubbing him from the inside out. 

There’s a quiet pop, followed by sticky little sounds as Caspar slicks his hand. His whole hand. Linhardt buries his face in the pillow at the realization. Just because he wants this, needs Caspar pounding him up to the wrist, doesn’t mean he isn’t nervous. 

“Linhardt.” Caspar’s voice comes out lower, sending sparks up Linhardt’s spine. “Relax.”

That tone, the gravelly rumble, means Caspar’s into it, and that soothes Linhardt, too. He exhales into the pillow and pushes his ass up higher, closer to Caspar. 

“That’s it,” says Caspar, and then he’s touching Linhardt’s asscheek, just running his hand up and down the curve to a slow beat. His thumb dips in, spreading Linhardt a little, barely pulling at his rim. 

“More,” Linhardt sighs, rocking into Caspar’s hand. Caspar’s always been the impatient one when it comes to sex, the one who needs it rough and fast and _now,_ but today it’s Caspar who has to pull Linhardt back.

“We’ll get there.” Caspar shifts behind Linhardt, makes himself comfortable, then presses a little harder on his hole, rubbing it in circles beneath his thumb until he finally pushes in.

It’s so good, that first breach. Every single time. Linhardt craves the stretch, craves that feeling of too much, too far until it isn’t. Even Caspar’s thumb feels massive because Linhardt knows what’s coming. 

Caspar slides his thumb in and out, and Linhardt’s ass catches on his knuckle the first few times. It makes him shudder, a good shudder, and he squeezes around Caspar to exaggerate the pull. 

“Not helping,” Caspar chides. But instead of punishing Linhardt, he presses another finger in—his index finger, paired with his thumb like he’s punching something—and Linhardt lets out a throaty moan. It’s not an angle they’ve tried before, and it spreads Linhardt’s ass perfectly, almost like Caspar’s prying it open. 

Caspar twists his wrist, spreading Linhardt in all different directions, picking up speed as he pumps. But he can’t get as deep as Linhardt needs with his fingers in the way. 

A third finger presses in before Linhardt can gasp out how much he wants it. He feels Caspar’s blunt fingertips from the inside, rubbing his walls, stretching them. Linhardt’s so close, close to that moment when his ass gives in, and he ruts back into Caspar’s hand, trying to feel the brush of his first knuckle. All the thrusting, his own and Caspar’s, loosens him more, and so does the way his nipples rub into the mattress. The pressure in his ass is so good Linhardt’s barely spared a thought for his cock, but it’s part of this, too, hanging untouched between his legs, not hard yet leaking onto the mattress below. 

It takes ages for Caspar to open him, and yet time means nothing, measured only in the strokes of Caspar’s fingers. Time just plain stops when Caspar grazes his prostate, and maybe there’s something there to research, but the moment Linhardt starts to grasp it, Caspar breaks his mind. 

“I’m gonna use my whole hand now.” Caspar half-grunts it and it wipes Linhardt’s brain clean. “You’re doing so good, Linhardt.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…” Linhardt repeats it a million times, and he hears nothing but Caspar’s praise, and then all of Caspar’s thick fingers plunge into him and his vision goes whiter than the pillow. This is it; he’s stretched so far he might snap and it hurts but it’s too good to stop and still, he wants—“ _More, Caspar!”_

And then the pain just melts away.

Nothing breaks when Caspar’s knuckles enter him, but Linhardt shatters just the same. It’s strange—he almost doesn’t feel it happening, like his ass is just that wide, but then Caspar twists his arm and a knuckle or something strikes Linhardt’s prostate, and Linhardt almost collapses on the bed in rapture. 

Caspar props him up, his other hand on Linhardt’s stomach, and Linhardt wonders if Caspar can feel his own knuckles through the layers of skin and muscle. It’s all Linhardt can feel: that hand inside him, piercing him, and slowly, Caspar starts to work it in and out. 

It’s bigger than anything Linhardt’s taken before. Bigger than Caspar’s fat cock, bigger than any object Linhardt shoved up his ass “just to see what it felt like,” and he reckons enlightenment must feel like this. The burning stretch is gone, leaving just Caspar’s broad hand and ecstasy unlike anything Linhardt’s ever felt. 

Linhardt’s making noises—he doesn’t know or care what he’s saying, but it must sound like _more_ , because Caspar pushes in deeper, deep enough that Linhardt can vaguely feel his hole around Caspar’s wrist. 

Caspar says something encouraging that Linhardt feels more than hears. He nods against the pillow, Caspar  _ finally  _ makes a true fist, and Linhardt’s fucking Crest activates. 

Cool magic and hot pleasure flood his body in the strangest orgasm—if it even is one—he’s ever had. He’s sure he’s coming, but there’s no explosion, just an intense, constant rush that never builds or ebbs. If Linhardt were half-coherent, he’d be taking notes, but as it is, he’s sinking into a puddle of drool and sticky-thick come on the bed, clenching and relaxing around Caspar’s fist. His ass is so open, so full, and every time Caspar twists his wrist or flexes his hand, Linhardt comes again, or maybe he never stops coming.

He’s only vaguely aware of Caspar encouraging him—the magic fills his ears like Caspar fills his ass, and the stretch, like his orgasm, is infinite.

“Fuck me harder,” Linhardt begs, embellished with some  _ pleases _ and  _ I needs _ that come out on their own, because he’s made of magic and his Crest will heal him. Caspar wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t give him any pain he couldn’t take, but Linhardt almost wants him to try. 

Unintelligible sounds flow from Caspar, too, and he presses his fist deeper into Linhardt, slow at first, then draws it back out. It’s incredible, being fucked by something so big, and Caspar does it again, faster, pushing even more of his arm inside. 

“Whoa…” Caspar sounds just as dumbstruck as Linhardt feels, and Linhardt wonders how far in he is now: up to his forearm? His elbow? “You’re incredible, you know that, right?”

Linhardt can’t even tell how many times he’s come. His entire body tingles, coursing with his own magic and Caspar’s, pulsing every single time Caspar so much as twitches inside him. 

“Can I fuck you?” Caspar’s voice cuts through Linhardt’s trance, clear as a ringing bell. “Please, Linhardt, I want to fuck you, you’re so loose and ready and I’m so hard and—”

“Yes, yes,” Linhardt chokes out. He’s close to sobbing, tears welling in his eyes as he writhes on the mattress, on Caspar’s arm. “You can fuck me, you can do anything you want to me, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours…”

Slowly, like prying away a piece of Linhardt, Caspar withdraws his fist. Linhardt’s ass strains around the widest part of his hand, and then he’s empty and waiting, drained of magic and come and coherent thought.

***

_ Fuck. _

That was the hottest thing Caspar’s ever experienced. 

He stayed hard, achingly so, the whole time, and not touching himself was torture, but watching Linhardt stretch around his hand, his arm—wide enough to take his whole fist? It was worth it.

And now Linhardt wants Caspar to fuck his gaping hole, wants it just as bad as Caspar from the way he’s rubbing himself off on the bed, humping the pillow like it’s Caspar himself. 

Caspar brushes Linhardt’s hair out of his eyes with his dry hand, tenderly, to check in. He keeps his voice soft. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

Linhardt nods, unable to form words for once. There’s enough oil on Caspar’s other hand to slick his cock, and he does, shaking as he rubs his shaft. He doesn’t even need the oil, Linhardt’s stretched so wide, but even though Linhardt likes some pain—can even heal himself as he goes, apparently—Caspar doesn’t want to tear him apart.

He just wants Linhardt on his cock. It’s not as big as his fist, but the idea of pushing in, rattling around in the space he made...it’s almost enough to make Caspar come on the spot.

Careful, he lifts Linhardt’s slender hips and stuffs another pillow beneath them. They’ve got no shortage of pillows, and Linhardt needs the support. 

“Ready?” he asks Linhardt, but he’s asking himself, too. All Linhardt has to do is hesitate and Caspar will finish in his own hand, but Linhardt’s chanting  _ yesyesyesyes _ in a voice that Caspar barely recognizes.

Caspar takes a deep breath and straddles Linhardt, practically lying on top of him, bracing one hand on his shoulder. Goddess, he doesn’t even have to, but he sticks a thumb in Linhardt again and his rim gives like nothing. It makes Linhardt moan and Caspar’s dick throb. Just knowing how badly Linhardt wants it—that he trusts Caspar enough to do it—is overwhelming, and Caspar has to bite his lip to calm himself. He wants to fuck Linhardt raw but he has to control himself or he might actually find out how much Linhardt can take. 

“Do it, Cas,” Linhardt whines, dragging out each word. He can’t even say Caspar’s full name, and that’s what does it. 

Caspar pushes in, cock right next to his thumb. No resistance meets him at all, just soft warmth, and it’s so intimate Caspar has to press a kiss to Linhardt’s neck. 

“Fuck me,” Linhardt gasps out, and the kiss turns into a growl, deep and fierce in Linhardt’s ear.

Caspar doesn’t need to be told twice. He presses Linhardt down into the mattress, pushing himself up in the process, and extracts his thumb from Linhardt’s ass to hold his hip. 

Then he gives Linhardt what he wants. 

Caspar thrusts into him, deep enough that his balls press into Linhardt’s ass. 

Choked, Linhardt cries out,  _ “Harder!” _

It’s easy to let go when Linhardt asks him to. Caspar pulls back and slams into him, again and again, building speed and pushing harder until his balls fully slap Linhardt’s ass. It isn’t tight like normal but it’s so good, like fucking pudding, only sweeter. 

Linhardt gets louder, too, like he can’t control his volume or his pitch. When Caspar rolls his hips, it’s not a scream but a sob that he wrenches from Linhardt. 

Caspar freezes. “You good?” he manages to gasp out.

“Don’t stop,” Linhardt cries, and actual tears are flowing down his cheeks beneath his thick hair. “Fuck me, fuck me, don’t stop…”

Caspar trusts him, too, and he picks up his rhythm, pounding Linhardt’s open ass. The tears don’t stop, but neither do the moans, and Caspar lets himself go. 

Relentless, he fucks Linhardt in tight, swift strokes, popping his hips to hit Linhardt in that place that slacks his jaw and makes him clench around Caspar. It’s amazing he can still do it, and Caspar loses count of how many times Linhardt comes, until he can’t possibly have anything left in him. The thought of him coming dry winds Caspar up tighter and tighter, and Linhardt’s crying and Caspar’s so close and the sound of his name, so broken and adored, hurls him past his limit. 

He’s never come so hard in his life, hips faltering as he spills into Linhardt. It’s so much and Linhardt’s so loose that the mess it dribbles out in a hot, sticky puddle between them. Caspar can hardly thrust anymore but he tries to ride it out, propelled by Linhardt’s cries— _ don’t stop don’t stop— _ until his dick physically _can’t_. There’s nothing left: no energy, no come, nothing but love, and Caspar collapses on Linhardt, kissing him anywhere he can reach.

“Talk to me,” Caspar urges, breathless. He can only lift himself off enough to pull out. “Talk to me, Lin, how are you doing?” 

“Linhardt’s good…”

He sounds drunk, and Caspar’s heart thumps.

“Linhardt’s so good, Linhardt feels amazing…”

Caspar blinks. Drunk Linhardt is nothing compared to this. He’s never heard Linhardt sound so delirious, not even the times his battle wounds had him drifting in and out of consciousness. 

“I’ve got you,” Caspar says, shifting off of him just enough to pull him close. “I’m here.”

“Caspar’s so good to Linhardt.” Linhardt looks up—normally he’s a pretty crier, but right now he’s got snot running from his nose, dried tears down his cheeks, and his hair’s a mess. “So good to give Linhardt what he wants.”

“What does Lin—what do you want now? What can I do?” Caspar asks because he’s not sure what else to say. 

“Don’t leave,” Linhardt tells him, looking straight into his eyes like he’s worried Caspar won’t see or hear him otherwise. “Don’t leave Linhardt, because Linhardt wants to marry Caspar so bad, so fucking bad.”

“O-okay.”

“Wanna wear white and fucking marry you on the fucking beach,” Linhardt goes on, and Caspar’s never heard him say  _ fuck _ so many times in one day. “Wanna marry you twenty times, with horses and doves and a veil because that would be so fucking pretty.”

“Okay,” Caspar says, trying to keep himself calm. He wants to get married, too, but this is the first time Linhardt’s ever mentioned it and he’s not exactly in his right mind at the moment. “Okay, okay, we’ll plan a wedding, but not until you drink some water and sleep for me. Can you do that, Lin? Can you sleep?”

“Lin can sleep,” Linhardt mumbles. “Linny can sleep so fucking good for Caspar.”

Caspar doesn’t want to leave his side but the water’s on the other side of the room. He considers carrying Linhardt there—he’s such a waify little thing that Caspar could easily do it—but moving him doesn’t seem like the right thing to do. “I’m going to get you some water,” he says. “I’ll be right back. Stay awake long enough to drink it.”

“Anything for Caspar.” Linhardt yawns through the words, but he manages to drink water, and then he’s more than happy to settle back into Caspar’s arms.

He’s out in seconds. 

The latent fear, the confusion, hits Caspar all at once. He has no idea what just happened, or if Linhardt will remember it when he wakes up. All Caspar knows is there’s no place in the world he’d rather be than here, in this bed, holding Linhardt and watching him sleep. 

He’ll be there when Linhardt wakes, too—maybe to plan a wedding, or maybe just to help him with a hot bath. 

Anything for Linhardt. 

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. Writing that was intense! I’ve only been writing smut for a few months so I am still winging it, but filling all these Casphardt prompts has been a rewarding way to unwind and practice. I hope you enjoyed it, OP! Thanks for asking me to write it. 
> 
> Title comes from Crush by Cigarettes After Sex. I almost called it “i wanna fuck your love slow” but that felt pretty vulgar for a title.
> 
> This is my tenth Casphardt fill!!!
> 
> My other Casphardt kinkmeme fills  
> [run me 'til i can't go further](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346504) (size kink)  
> [where do you get off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24553393) (sex on a crowded train)  
> [the rest can all fall apart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110557) (first time)  
> [intoxicated, flying high](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24473587) (sweat kink)  
> [somebody once told me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458335) (jerking off while watching shrek)  
> [knocked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24649873) (ass eating while playing video games)  
> [keep your chin up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811681) (deepthroating)  
> [gonna wear that dress you like, skin-tight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863230) (Gremory Linhardt)  
> [gift-wrapped](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027519) (powerbottom Caspar)  
> [no small feat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243759) (small dick and proud Caspar)  
> [getting better all the time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412094) (bad sex turned good)  
> [overdue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451880) (librarian kink)


End file.
